SPN fic: Any Old Music Will Do - chapter 1/4 - It's just sex

[the_diggler]

Chapter 1 - It's just sex.

Please see the fic masterpost for warnings and other information.



[ previous]

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Crowley finds Dean as soon as he’s done with his act, the sound of rabid, screaming women following him into the darkness offstage.

“Did you see him?”

“The trenchcoat? Yep. All good,” Dean replies, pulling his tips from his g-string as he heads for the showers.

“That’s my star,” Crowley leers, clapping him on the back before scuttling off to make the arrangements. Crowley may be a capitalizing lech, but at least he always checks with Dean before any deals are made. Not that Dean’s ever really tested Crowley’s limits. Dean never says no. Unless his brother’s in town, or he’s too ill to get out of bed (meaning: too hungover).

And even though Crowley takes 15% off the top of his earnings, at least Dean is assured a regular room at Crowley’s hotel to receive his many “admirers.” No charge, for however long he needs. With that comes a level of security as well, which he probably wouldn’t have if he was doing this on his own.

Although, Dean suspects it’s also a way for Crowley to cover his own ass. Keeping his “dancers” on such a short leash keeps word from getting out that he’s running what is basically a brothel off the books. The man constantly complains about the laws not allowing him to run a “right and proper brothel” like back wherever-the-hell he’s from, but Dean suspects Crowley enjoys the spectacle of the revue even more. In any case, they’ve found a setup that’s pretty much win/win and a hell of a lot of fun for everyone involved.

But this guy. This friggin’ edible trenchcoat, and the pair of eyes on him, bright and blue even in the darkness of the hallway backstage… Every now and then someone comes along that makes Dean want to skip the private lapdance and jump straight into bed, and this guy is one of them.

“Hey, I’m Dean,” he says, approaching the other man where he’s waiting outside Crowley’s office. The man turns, fixing those big baby blues on him, both innocent and world-weary at the same time, and Dean just blinks back at him, stunned.

“Yes, I know.” And sweet jesus, what a growl of a voice on this guy too. “My name is Castiel.”

Dean has to swallow hard before he can speak again. “Did Crowley already give you a key?” he asks, trying for a casual grin.

“Yes, he did,” Castiel answers, holding it up. The room number on the attached tag reads 620 – Dean’s usual.

“Okay, then. After you,” he says, opening the unmarked door to the boiler room a few feet away. “It’s just a short trip, then I’m all yours.”

Dean can clearly see the blush that spreads across the guy’s face at that, all the way up from the pale flesh of his neck, and Dean kind of wants to lick it right then and there. But it also gives Dean a better read on the guy, and he starts to think he may not be able to get Castiel (wow) into bed as quickly as he’d like after all.

The awkward silence during the walk over confirms Dean’s suspicions. Although, to be fair, at first the other man seems more distracted by their surroundings than anything. It’s not every day one descends into a steamy boiler and finds themselves in an underground tunnel. Dean’s so used to it he barely even notices anymore.

But when they step into the hotel’s service elevator there isn’t much to distract the other man, and that’s when Dean really picks up on his anxiety. The guy is pretty tense, whether from the kind of nervousness that usually comes with this kind of situation, or from something else, Dean can’t tell yet. But he knows he’s going to have to spend some time getting Cas to loosen up a little first before moving on to the main event. Dean can live with that. He enjoys a slow seduction just as much as a quick roll in the hay. And every time this guy throws one of those furtive little glances his way, Dean thinks he wouldn’t mind having those eyes on him for an extended amount of time.

When they arrive on the sixth floor of the hotel Cas finally seems to relax a bit, their surroundings now at least a little more inviting than the utilitarian coldness of the service elevator. If Dean thought the man would’ve been receptive, he would’ve jumped the guy on the ride up already. He’s learned from experience that it’s so much better to get things started sooner instead of standing around twiddling your thumbs or making bullshit chit-chat, just waiting for what you know is going to happen as soon as you get to the room.

At least after the first time, anyone who comes back for more knows how to find their way on their own already, and Dean can just go ahead and wait for them in the room – maybe get naked in the meantime, take a shower if he needs to, linger there as in invitation for company – or, if he finishes his shower quickly enough, he’ll open himself up on his fingers, prep himself in advance so he doesn’t have to wait to get fucked – if he has more time after that, maybe he’ll grab himself a drink, dance slowly around the room to some tunes until he feels those blue eyes on him again, burning over his skin with every slow sway of his hips

Jesus. Dean hasn’t even gotten the man into bed yet and he’s already thinking about next time. When they finally get to their room, he practically falls through the door, he’s so eager to begin.

The first thing he does is head straight for the TV to plug his phone into the dock (thanks again, Crowley), and soon the sounds of Led Zeppelin begin quietly filling up the air. For his stage shows Dean usually prefers something like AC-DC get the crowd pumped up, but for these private dances he likes it slow and dirty, and has a playlist full of Zep and Bad Company and a bunch of other classic jams to set the mood.

When he turns around again Cas is still hovering awkwardly in the doorway, staring at the bed with that adorable dread on his face, and Dean just can’t help himself. He begins sliding his jacket off, oh-so-slowly as he stalks towards the other man, and when Castiel’s eyes are drawn by the movement, Dean sees them dilate with desire. Dean knows how to take his clothes off for an audience, whether he’s dancing or not, and it doesn’t take much to make Castiel’s breath quicken. Stalking even closer, Dean lays his jacket over the edge of the loveseat next to the door, and effectively places himself a hair’s breath away from the other man.

“What do you want, Cas?” he asks, slowly reaching up to push off the man’s trenchcoat. “You want me to dance for you?” he whispers as he leans forward, licking his lips as his eyes are drawn to the sight of the other man’s mouth up close, a little dry but full and pink and still so kissable. Dean hopes the proximity of their bodies will snap the man out of it, make Castiel reach out and take him, maybe right there against the door… but instead the guy looks like he’s about to hyperventilate from panic.

Dean chuckles to himself as he eases away a little, laying Cas’ coat next to his own on the arm of the couch.

“How about a drink?” he suggests instead, and Cas nods, swallowing thickly. Dean smiles, going to the honor-bar to pull a couple of beers out of the fridge - also free of charge, thanks to Crowley. Handing one over, he sits down on the loveseat, gesturing for the man to join him while leaving a respectable amount of distance between them.

“So Cas, what do you do?” he starts out easy. Most people don’t really like to talk about the lives they’re so obviously trying to escape from, but this guy seems so far out of his comfort zone, Dean figures it might be the right place to start.

“I work at the Library,” Cas replies. Jesus what a voice.

“A librarian, huh?” And damn if that isn’t all kinds of hot either. “You do alright with that?” Dean asks.

“I have simple needs,” Cas shrugs. “Though it has been difficult lately, with Anna’s medical bills.”

“Anna?” Dean asks cautiously. Wife? Daughter? There’s no wedding ring on Cas’ finger, not even a tan-line, but that still doesn’t mean Castiel isn’t attached. Then again, the guy wouldn’t have brought it up if the topic was off-limits either.

“My sister. She was at the club last week for her birthday,” Castiel explains, and Dean has a completely unwarranted moment of relief, before it’s outweighed by confusion again.

“The redhead? Yeah, I see the resemblance now,” he replies carefully. It’s in that big-eyed stare more than anything, seemingly innocent and ancient at the same time. But Anna had come across as a lot more frail, and that makes sense now. “She’s sick?”

“Yes, she is. Which is why I’m here.”

Uh-oh.

Dean begins to panic a little. Is he about to get a fist in the face from angry big brother? Or is he about to get some kind of other bad news? He’d been safe with her, but there’s always a chance

“She said you were very good to her. Very careful, and considerate. And she wanted me to thank you for that.”

Huh?

“You see, that might’ve been her last birthday. So that might’ve been the last time she’ll ever be able to… spend the night with someone,” Castiel adds quietly.

“…Oh.” Dean says, unable to think of anything else. It’s a sobering thought. She seemed like a nice girl, and he can’t really wrap his mind around the fact that he was supposedly her last hoorah. “Well, I’m glad it was good for her,” he finally says, sincerely.

“Yes,” Castiel replies. “And it’s because of how you were with her that she made me promise to come see you.”

“To thank me?” Dean asks, completely thrown. He has no idea what’s going on anymore.

“No! Well, Yes,” Castiel stammers. “But also to…” he trails off, a flush creeping up his neck again. “You see, I’ve never…” Cas trails off again, his blush deepening as he makes a gesture with his hands – a familiar gesture, that should be lewd, but just comes across as awkward when Castiel does it – and suddenly, Dean gets it.

“…You’re a virgin?” Dean exclaims. “How is that possible?” he blurts, before he can remember to be tactful about it. The guy is gorgeous. Drop dead. And if Dean saw him on the street, he would be throwing his number at the guy, screaming that he takes his clothes off for money, and whatever else the guy wants. For free, even. If just to get the guy laid.

Cas looks away, rubbing his neck in embarrassment. “Between work, and taking care of Anna… I just haven’t had occasion,” he mutters. “Which is why she made me promise to do something for myself,” Cas sighs. “The truth is… I’m just not very good with people,” he says quietly, biting his lip.

Dean nods, setting his beer down on the side-table.

“Well lucky for you, Cas, I’m great with people,” he says, sliding closer.

It’s almost comical, how Castiel tries to back away from him when he leans close, but there isn’t far to escape on the couch, and all Dean has to do is keep leaning in until they’re practically sharing the same breath. There’s unmistakable desire in the man’s eyes, but his body language still screams of panic, so instead of just kissing the guy like he wants to and getting things started already, Dean alters his plan of attack. It doesn’t take much to shift his body as he leans forward, swinging a leg over to straddle Cas' lap and make it seem like that was his intention all along.

“Is this okay?” Dean murmurs, still close enough to share each other’s breath.

“Um…” Castiel replies, and pressed as close as they are, Dean feels the rumble of his voice all the way through his chest. Dean knows it wasn’t meant to be sexy, but it makes him want to arch his back and purr like a cat, and he can’t help but hum appreciatively in response. His hips begin to move, spurred on their own volition, grinding in Castiel’s lap and teasing them both with an easy friction.

“How about, when you work out what you want, you just tell me,” Dean murmurs, reaching for Castiel’s collar. “And until then, you just tell me ‘no’ if I’m out of line, okay?” he says, looking Castiel directly in the eye to make his point. Castiel nods, and a small grunt escapes his throat that Dean takes as a sign the guy understands, even if he isn’t capable of articulating it at the moment.

“Relax, Cas,” Dean croons, cupping Castiel’s jaw, “It’s just sex, it’s not the end of the world,” he whispers into Castiel’s ear. “You’ll see. I’ll show you,” Dean grins.

Still grinding in time to the music, he begins unbuttoning Castiel’s shirt, slowly peeling it away to reveal a pale, but leanly muscled body, and Dean finds himself humming in appreciation again. Slowly, he slides his hands up Castiel’s chest, fingers just brushing his nipples on the way, but Cas doesn’t miss it, breath hitching in response to the minute tease. So sensitive. But still so tense. Dean keeps sliding his hands upwards, until he’s cupping Castiel’s neck, then he fans his fingers outwards, gently massaging the tightness out of Cas’ shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Dean sighs as Castiel begins to relax. “Just take it easy and let me do the work. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Cas,” he murmurs against Castiel’s ear.

“Mmm, Dean,” Castiel moans, finally finding his voice again. And again Dean finds himself shuddering at the sound, unable to help himself. He leans back, giving Castiel a better view as he slowly lifts his shirt up, tugging at it in time with the grinding of his hips until there’s nowhere left for it to go but off. And then Castiel’s gaze positively burns over Dean’s naked skin, so heavy with desire, Dean feels it like an actual touch.

He grabs Castiel’s hands from where they’ve settled uncertainly on his still-clothed hips, and pulls them upwards, pressing them to his bared chest. Castiel’s breath hitches as his palms come into contact with Dean’s skin, but he seems reluctant to explore, though his eyes clearly tell Dean that he wants to. So Dean uses his own hands to guide Castiel’s across his skin, using the path of Cas’ gaze as his direction.

Castiel barely makes a noise, other than a few shaky hisses of breath here and there. But Dean murmurs low words of encouragement every now and then, letting Cas know when and where he likes to be touched. It isn’t long before Cas has mapped out every inch of Dean’s skin that he can, and the only way left to go is south.

Dean’s more than fine with that. Lifting himself up on his knees, he unzips the fly of his jeans, pushing them down around his thighs. He’s already half hard – it’s obvious through his boxer briefs – and as he slowly undulates his hips, right in front of Cas’ face, Cas simply can’t look away. The word ‘snake-charmer’ pops into Dean’s head, and he has to bite down a laugh.

Just as soon as the thought comes, though, it’s replaced by frustration. Anyone else would’ve been grabbing at Dean’s boxers already, copping a feel, or even better, sucking him down. Castiel especially has a set of lips on him that are just begging to be fucked, already parted with heavy breaths and looking for all the world like he’s salivating for it. But Dean understands that the lack of action means it’s too soon for the guy, that he’s going to have to work for it a little harder.

Kneeing his way off the couch, he kicks his jeans off altogether, but when Castiel’s eyes flare slightly with panic again, Dean decides to leave his boxers on. This time, when he steps towards the couch again, he turns around to sit himself on Cas’ lap. He lowers himself down slowly though, giving Cas plenty of time to adjust to what’s happening, and it’s with no small amount of satisfaction that Dean feels Cas hard against his backside.

Dean smirks as he begins to rock his hips again, stretching out across Cas’ body as he grinds his hips down, giving the other man an eyeful of his bare torso and everything happening below. Finding Cas’ hands again, he presses them to his skin, retracing the paths he showed Castiel before. Cas still touches him with curious fingers, but to Dean’s delight, the other man remembers his sensitive spots, paying extra attention to them.

“Yeah, touch me, Cas,” Dean moans. It drives him a little crazy, what with the hard line of Cas’ dick rubbing up against his ass at the same time. It’s long but not too thick, just how Dean likes, and all he would have to do is push down his boxers, reach behind him to unzip Castiel’s fly, and he could just bounce on it. Dean grabs Castiel’s hand, cupping it around his now-full erection. “See how hard I am for you, Cas?” he gasps.

“Dean,” the man growls, right in his ear, and Dean’s entire body shudders in response. He shoves Castiel’s hand down the inside of his boxers, and when Cas’ fingers wrap around him, Dean groans with relief. His hips begin to writhe even more, thrusting up into the man’s fist and rubbing back harder against Cas’ erection. He instinctively twists his neck around, drawn by the other man’s breath on his ear, maybe seeking out the man’s lips, but he ends up finding Castiel’s eyes instead, and once that happens Dean forgets all else. Soon all they’re doing is breathing into each other’s mouths, eyes locked together, their hands and bodies having forgotten the urgency of their rhythm.

His body seems to move on its own then, turning around so he can see the other man better, press even closer. But the shift seems to startle Castiel, and the man goes tense again, pulling back a little. Dean reaches up to cup his hand around the back of Cas’ neck, moving slow, as if dealing with a skittish animal, and strokes the man’s pulse point soothingly with his thumb. Cas’ body may be rigid and resisting against his own, but his eyes flutter closed at the touch, and Dean feels a sigh of submission against his lips before he closes the remaining distance.

It takes more coaxing to get Castiel’s lips to relax as well, to get his mouth to move with Dean’s and open up to Dean’s tongue. But when Cas begins to respond, something finally clicks into place, and Dean knows he’s got him. If he’d known all it would take would be a kiss, Dean would’ve done it in the first place.

Cas’ lips are every bit as soft as Dean thought they would be. If not softer. And he kisses like someone who’s almost forgotten how – maybe he has, Dean supposes – but while he’s  tentative at first, he quickly remembers the motions, responding to Dean’s every move with deepening fervor. And the sounds he makes, every time Dean kisses him… like he’s been starved for it. Again, Dean realizes, he probably has been.

It isn’t long before Dean wants to put his lips everywhere he can. Now that he’s finally getting the reaction he wants from the man, Dean wants more of it. More of those sounds, those groans and sighs, more full-body tremors and shivers, hands grasping at his shoulders hard enough to bruise. He learns the shape of Cas’ jaw against his lips, the feel of Cas' stubble and the taste of his skin, on the sensitive spot right below Cas’ ear. He plays there for a while, grinning against Castiel’s neck when the man starts rutting up into him again, body moving fluidly against Dean’s now. But there’s much more playground for Dean’s lips to explore – the pale length of a neck, the smooth expanse of a chest, dark rosebud nipples so ready to be nibbled on – oh the sounds Castiel makes then. And when Dean’s fingers find Cas’ fly, there’s a treasure-trail of soft, dark hair, just waiting to be travelled.

Dean slides to the floor in a heap, palming himself through his underwear as his lips explore southwards. When his mouth finally closes around Castiel’s covered cock, he finds the other man’s underwear already wet with pre-come, a dark patch at the end of Castiel’s long, and very hard dick. Dean can only stand to mouth at it a few seconds, the taste and heat of it too tantalizing. He doesn’t want to pull his hand away from his own erection, but he wants Castiel’s dick in his mouth even more, so he reaches up to pull the other man’s briefs down, setting it free.

Dean didn’t think it was even possible, but the guy even tastes like a virgin – real clean, and pure – it makes Dean want to suck at him all night. But it’s not just Cas’ taste that Dean likes. He likes the way Cas feels as well, so hot and heavy in his mouth, smooth and hard and long – Dean knows it’ll feel just as good in his ass as it does in his mouth. Better even. Much, much better.

Cas has no idea though. By the way the guy’s gnashing his teeth, trying to keep down his cries, back bowed off the couch in a full-body arch – Dean can tell this is a good as Cas has ever gotten. And it reminds Dean of why they’re there, and exactly what the man has asked him for. With a pained groan, Dean reluctantly pulls his lips off Castiel’s cock.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean curses under his breath. Now that he can hear his own breathing again, Dean is surprised to find himself panting, hard, just as worked up as Castiel is.

“Dean?” Cas gasps, eyes glazed and blinking in confusion.

Dean reaches up and takes Castiel’s beautiful dick in his hand, fisting it loosely and pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along its length. “I want to feel this in me so bad, Cas,” he murmurs, barely pulling his lips away from Castiel’s skin. “But that’s not what you want, is it?” he says, finally looking up, and when Cas’ eyes lock onto him Dean slowly slides his hand underneath the other man’s ass, pressing his fingers up through Castiel’s clothes, right against his entrance.

Castiel’s whole body shudders at that, and the sound he makes is something halfway between a sob and a sigh.

“Yeah, that’s what you want, baby, isn’t it?” Dean murmurs, massaging him softly. Cas whimpers and nods, legs falling farther apart in invitation, and Dean groans. “You’re so ready for it too, aren’t you sweetheart?” he breathes, and Cas whimpers again. Dean grins, pulling his hands away to reach for Cas’ fingers instead, prying them loose from where they’re clenched in the couch pillows. Then, standing up off the floor, Dean pulls Cas up with him, walking backwards to the bed and leading Cas forward.

Cas doesn’t look afraid anymore, but Dean’s not entirely sure if the man’s fully aware of his surroundings anymore either. Instead Castiel’s eyes are focused on Dean’s face – or Dean’s lips, to be exact –  seemingly entranced and licking his own lips as he leans closer and closer. And then Cas is all over him, devouring his mouth, and they’re so far wrapped up in each other even Dean barely notices when they fall back onto the bed.

It’s a struggle getting the rest of Cas’ clothes off, while they’re rolling around on the mattress, grinding up against each other. But Dean manages it somehow, without having to unlock his lips from Castiel’s at all. And when they finally press up against each other, nothing but skin on skin, they both groan in relief at the hard-won victory. Cas clings to him, needy and gagging for it, far from the shy and awkward creature he was earlier. That is, until Dean tries to roll him onto his stomach.

“No. Wait,” Cas gasps. “I want to be able to see you,” he says, biting his lip nervously, and Dean suddenly gets what Cas wants, remembering their earlier conversation about how Dean had been gentle and careful in bed.

For a second, Dean is surprised. Most guys don’t usually need to look at his face, preferring to take him from behind, and whether he gets off is his own business. The ones that want to be taken, similarly prefer to have their face pressed into the pillows – no real involvement – just letting Dean work his magic. It’s usually the women who ask for sweet little love-fucks, complete with kissing and eye-contact and hugging afterwards. But if that’s what Cas wants, then sure. Dean’s always willing to oblige.

“Yeah, okay, Cas,” Dean replies, “I can do that.” Hell, with eyes like those? Dean’s more than happy to stare into them. In fact, he feels a little like he just scored the jackpot. Because those eyes… they’re really something else.

He barely looks away as he opens Cas up on his fingers, careful and slow – as slow as he can when he feels how tight and hot Castiel is inside. Dean’s used to bottoming, it’s usually what men expect from him, so it’s rare for him to want to be inside another man so bad. But he does. The way Cas opens up for him, shaking and clinging to him – it’s not just how good Cas feels, but the way Cas responds to every touch, every little crook and stretch of his fingers. And when Dean finally pushes into Castiel, as slowly as his patience allows, Dean starts to understand why people make such a big fuss about virgins.

Dean’s heard guys talk about it before, but it’s never really appealed to him, preferring partners with experience. But the way Castiel responds to everything, with such wide-eyed surprise and utter abandon to every new sensation, it’s kind of a rush. Dean barely even has to touch Cas to get some kind of response, some groan or whimper or an stretch of his spine. So Dean doesn’t do it too much. Just a light brush of fingers across Cas’ skin here and there, down the back of his thigh, up across his nipples, tracing along his jaw. And Dean finds himself doing it not just to make Cas feel good, but because every time he does, Cas is going to remember it. From now on, every time someone touches Castiel that way, he’s going to remember Dean.

It’s the kind of possessive thinking Dean never thought himself capable of, but it’s just… those eyes. He doesn’t know what it is, but they make Dean feel like he’s both drowning and floating at the same time. And he doesn’t think he could look away if he tried.

Dean doesn’t even realize he’s talking until Cas starts whimpering his name. And then he hears himself whispering things like, “Yeah, Cas, give it up for me,” and “Fuck, you’re so good,” calling Castiel things like “sweetheart” and “baby” and “angel,” all kinds of endearments he usually saves for the ladies, but he just can’t seem to stop them from spilling out of his mouth now. Especially not when Cas keens and moans his name so sweetly in response.

Dean doesn’t even have to touch Castiel to make him come. And even though Dean knows he’s been gentle and slow, when it happens, it still feels like it happens all too soon. Still, the feeling of Castiel’s body clenching around him, and the look in Castiel’s eyes as he comes with someone inside him for the first time, it’s too much for Dean. He can’t hold out any longer, spilling over the edge and coming deep inside Castiel’s body, eyes probably just as wide and shocky, and unable to look away for any of it.

~ tbc

A/N: You could stop reading here if you just want to take this as a smutty little oneshot. It's all drama from here on out (and smut of course)... you have been warned :S

In the meantime, check out this lapdance fanart (with bonus NSFW art) by catcitycat at tumblr! And please let her know how awesome she is <3